Carol Gilbert Writes From Prison: Aug. 2004

Dearest Friends,

It's that time of the month again when I catch you up on prison life and some of my ponderings. We are closing in on 19 months of lock down.

Alderson is located 270 miles S.W. of Washington D.C. in the foothills of the Allegheny Mountains. This summer has been magnificent with little humidity and cool nights. Our gardens are growing and producing. I've enjoyed fresh lettuce, beans, zucchini and cucumbers. We await the tomatoes.

I'm beginning to wonder if I should be playing the lottery these days since I was randomly chosen again to be drug (urine) tested – two months in a row! This time it was 4:45 a.m. and I had just showered and met by bodily needs, so, once again I sat and sat in the Administration building until 6:30 a.m. The good news is that it allowed me time for a wonderful conversation with a long time female guard. She remembered many of the peacemakers, especially Jean Gump and Liz McAlister . She remarked how different those days were 18 - 20 years ago before warehousing as we have today with the new buildings. She looks forward to her retirement.

On one of my daily walks I found a blue jay feather and yellow/black feather which one of the Cherokee women here made into a beautiful dream catcher for me.

One evening walking to Church a baby bat was flying at me waist high level – a bit scary for those of you who know me.

In one of the many flower beds we found a neon green caterpillar with black spots lined up all in a row. One of the women told me this turns into a magnificent moth and is called a tomato horn worm.

We've had dental students these past weeks helping the dentist get caught up. They are pulling teeth and putting in temporary fillings – the prison doesn't give permanent fillings.

The Yarn Project has me busy knitting mittens as those are most needed for the poor children of this area for winter.

Next month I hope to write about our prison cuts. Alderson must cut $3 million from its budget!

One of the insights I've gained this past month is that after I write something that is troubling me, there is great healing. My letters lift a great weight. It is as if putting pen to paper has a positive effect.

I want to share with you one of the most painful experiences I've had since incarcerated.

Last summer at this time I was in a small, northern Colorado jail awaiting transport to federal prison. During those weeks I met an extraordinary young woman from Boulder , CO . Many of you know the quote: “Some people come into our lives and quickly go; others stay for a while and we are never the same.” And, so it was with this young woman who touched my spirit. I knew both the criminal (in)justice system and mental health system were failing her. I was concerned that without help she would die. She was soon to be released and she wrote me in the fall here at Alderson.

In February I received a letter from her parents informing me that she was found dead in her Boulder apartment on December 28, 2003 (Feast of the Holy Innocents) most likely from heart problems due to anorexia.

I have shed many tears as I wondered what more I could have done. In my head I know I was not responsible for her death but my heart has been heavy. . I am so grateful her mother wrote to me – my address was in a book I'd given her which her parents found when cleaning her apartment. I am also grateful that her spirit touched my life for so even brief a time.

These past months I've been pondering prayer. I've never felt comfortable praying for cures for friends with cancer, an end to war, safe travel, passing an exam, rain, no rain, etc., etc., etc. Prayer isn't about my wants and my will and I've never thought of God as deciding who gets what dished out to them. Bad things do happen to good people all the time and a loving God doesn't make those decisions.

So, what I have come to believe is that prayer is presence. Prayer is being in the presence of God. Prayer is being present every moment to the mystery of God.

As Joan Chittister so aptly writes:

The function of prayer is certainly not to cajole God into saving us from ourselves. “Please, God, don't let us die in a nuclear war!” surely is not real prayer. We can stop nuclear war ourselves by stopping the manufacture of nuclear weapons. No, the function of prayer is not magic. The function of prayer is not the bribery of the infinite. The function of prayer is not to change the mind of God about decisions we have already made for ourselves. The function of prayer is to change my own mind, to enable grace to break into me.

Thus , prayer is about grace and surrender and gratitude. Prayer is about surrendering and surrendering gracefully to the mystery that is God. My life is a prayer. My prayer is my life.

As we ready ourselves for the third anniversary of 9-11, I leave you with these thoughts:

Wage peace with your breath,
Breathe in firemen and rubble,
Breathe out whole buildings and flocks of redwing blackbirds.
Breathe in terrorists and
Breathe out sleeping children and freshly mown fields.
Breathe in confusion and breathe out maple trees.
Breathe in the fallen and breathe out lifelong friendships intact.
Wage peace with your listening
Hearing sirens, pray loud.
Remember your tools, flower seeds, clothespins, clean rivers,
Make soup. Play music.
Learn the word for thank you in three languages.
Learn to knit and make a hat
Think of chaos as dancing raspberries.
Imagine grief as the outbreath of beauty or the gesture of fish.
Swim for the other side.
Wage peace,
Never has the world seemed so fresh and precious.
Have a cup of tea and rejoice.
Act as if armistice has already arrived. Don't wait another minute.

Judyth Hill /Wage Peace

May you be well these summer days! May you find hope in the village of Le Chambon …you may want to read Lest Innocent Blood Be Shed by Philip Hallie . He writes: “In an ethic of life and death there is an ethic of refusal and there is an ethic of positive action.” Let's refuse and act!

My deepest love and gratitude,

Carol .